


Baby Don't Hold Out

by dorkpatroller



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, MAYBE movie spoilers but if you're here like... i'm sure u know, Other, Pet Names, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Song: Baby It's Cold Outside, Tentacle Sex, i mean and also whatever you call venom blob handjob-esque things, symbrock, there is sex, they/them pronouns for venom, vague references to canon-typical violence and cannibalism i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 21:59:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkpatroller/pseuds/dorkpatroller
Summary: Eddie is just in a bad mood and Venom wants to cheer him up. Turns out he doesn't particularly want to go out in the blizzard, so they'll have to find a different method.





	Baby Don't Hold Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lieano](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieano/gifts).



It gets cold here every year, but Eddie can’t remember the last time it was  _ this cold _ . People are being advised not to travel, shelters have more overflow than they can handle. It’s officially being named a citywide state of disaster. Churches and libraries are being ordered to open up their doors to the homeless. 

 

If you asked him, Eddie would say it’s about fucking time, but nobody ever bothers to ask him. He’s just thinking about all those homeless people who are going to be homeless again when the blizzard is over. 

 

**Grumpy.**

 

_ No shit _ . He should really count his blessings. He’s better off than most of those people. Sure his apartment is a trash heap buried in a mound of horse shit, but it’s home. The heater isn’t running because it’s  _ way _ too expensive for that, but he keeps it set on 50 and he has a space heater shaped like a fireplace that he managed to swipe from his breakup with Anne. 

 

She didn’t actually want to back, he’s asked a few times. He didn’t want to give it back either, so it works out.

 

**Hungry.**

 

“Absolutely not," he says. "It's thirty below. We're not going out there." 

 

**Will** **_feel_ ** **better.**

 

"Sure won't," Eddie pulls the blanket around himself tighter. It's not that he doesn't want to. Well, it's a little that he doesn't want to, but at this point what's a head eaten here or there? They've been very good about it, about limiting themselves. Only when they  _ must _ . 

 

Eddie can feel them. His other, his dearest, he can always feel them. They're part of each other. They're one. Usually, they're situated in one spot tucked behind his ribs or at the base of his spine. Just a tickle of warmth. That warmth moves in a fluid motion up to his shoulder now, forms a tiny face. Like a little snake, perched there by his neck. It's hard to tell where it begins and his skin ends. 

 

He groans. The symbiote speaks out loud.  **“Eating makes us happy.”**

 

"Staying inside makes us happy. If we go out there we'll freeze. No one in their right minds is out in this weather anyway. Even the bad guys have to take snow days." 

 

There's a movement along his skin. Like silk sheets being pulled across his shoulder, his arm, down to the tips of his fingers. He's not suited up with Venom, it's still his body, but blanketed in a layer of their sleek, black skin.

 

**“Always keep us safe, Eddie.”**

 

Yeah. It’s warm. He lifts up his hand, coated in blackness, and he admires it. Then he takes that hand and brushes his fingertips along the folds of his thick hoodie, over the little squish of his stomach. He sighs, and on the exhale all of his worries and all of his bitterness about the politics of this country fade for the moment. For a moment it’s just them. “Don’t really feel that hungry, love.” 

 

Eddie  _ knows _ when they’re hungry. It’s deep, like the sound of their voice, and it resonates within his skull and stomach and to the ends of his fingertips. When they’re  _ hungry _ there’s just no stopping it. No amount of eating can sate it, not until they meet those basic needs. 

 

So if they're not hungry to go on a manhunt and  _ Eddie _ isn’t actually that hungry for normal food either… it kind of boils down to a simple explanation. The silky texture spreads further over Eddie, wraps around his chest in gentle spirals and part of his other arm like a sweater. It’s warmer like that, but his other isn’t always inherently warm. They’re doing it on purpose to make Eddie more comfortable. 

 

Ah.  _ This is about me, isn’t it? _

 

**Want you to be happy, Eddie. Want us to be happy.**

 

Well, that's just gross. He brings his other hand, the one that's still just his hand, to lay over the blackness covering his chest, covering his heart. The moment he does it's like a gentle purr washes over him. Over them. His lips curl into a gentle smile.  _ Gross. _

 

**You’re gross.**

 

“Well fuck you too, I guess,” Eddie says. Maybe just to fill the silence. He can obviously communicate either way effortlessly. It’s just part of being human, he supposes. Part of accepting that it’s not just him anymore, that he has a partner and a companion and an other half here with him. If they mind at all, they never say so. 

 

The silence between them grows comfortable while Eddie looks out the window. There’s ice crusted over it, but even through that he can see the storm coming down. He would rather stay here. 

 

**You don’t want to go out.**

 

“Baby, it’s cold outside,” Eddie mumbles back. “We have food for later. Besides, if I ate every time I was mad or sad or whatever I’d be twice as fat as I already am.” 

 

There’s another rumble from the symbiote but this time it’s more of a complaint. It feels the same, vibrates under his skin the same, but Eddie  _ knows _ . 

 

**Beautiful.**

 

Oh. Eddie’s smile spreads up into a lopsided smirk. Maybe if he was eating less junk food all the time it wouldn’t be so bad. Not that it’s  _ that bad _ . Not bad enough that he’s gone up a jean size, but just bad enough that he’s rehearsing his new year’s resolution. “Yes, you are.” 

 

He can almost feel Venom bristling with frustration. Frustration and just the tiniest bit of pride. 

 

**_You,_ ** **Eddie.**

 

_ You  _ are _ me, remember? Us. We. We are Venom. Right?  _

 

The blackness spreads out over more of his chest. It’s constricting, for a moment… but then it feels nice. Like a hug. Eddie trails the hand covered in Venom further down his chest. He’s not sure where he begins and they end, but he thinks it’s obvious that he’s being affectionate. 

 

He’s just being affectionate but then he loses control of his arm. That one, anyway. He watches with a bemused smile. “Gonna fight me?” He teases. Venom doesn’t fight him though. They do something much better than that. They trail their fingertips down, wind past the part of his chest that’s covered up and over the fabric of the hoodie sticking out underneath. Then, slowly, they slip underneath that and drag along Eddie’s bare skin.

 

It's his body, you know? His hand that's wrapped up in that inky coating. But it's not. He feels it like someone else is touching him, and, well, they are. Their touch drags lower, pushes under the hem of his jeans. It's just as they're using their palm to try and work him up that Eddie drops his head onto the back of the sofa with a breathless laugh. "Switching tactics?" 

 

**Want to make you happy.**

 

It’s really romantic, in a dumb way. Wanting to go out, wanting to cheer him up, wanting to make him feel good just to make him  _ happy _ . It’s crazy how a man-eating alien could turn out to be more romantic than most humans are. More romantic than Eddie ever has been. 

 

Then again, he’s a better man than he used to be. They’re better together. They’re perfect together. But then just as he thinks it the warmth tight around him vanishes. His arm is his own again and he gasps because for a moment he almost feels alone. “V,” He licks his chapped lips. “I was teasing, babe, come on, don’t-- _ oh _ .” 

 

It just starts as a heat pooled in his stomach, but then it’s more of a weight and with just a glance he notices a more physical presence of the symbiote settled on top of him. It’s just a blob, no face, no expression, but then from that little blob several tendrils form. A few of them slide up and under the baggy hoodie. They push along his chest, along his ribs, just to feel. More slide under the hem of his  _ jeans _ . Those are better. Those slip under his boxers and envelope him, wrap around his cock but it doesn’t feel like wearing a glove. It feels like being jerked off. Tight, sharp tugs mixed with slow, calm ones. It makes him bite down on his lip and lift his hips up for more contact, but there’s really no more contact to gain.

 

Or he would think so. Then more tendrils dip between his thighs and he realizes, belatedly,  _ fuck these jeans _ . He scrambles to reach for them, but he has to fight to squirm out of them. “You’re no help,” 

 

**Busy.**

 

“Not that busy,” Eddie grunts. He’s, per usual, wrong. Not a breath after he says it that presence between his thighs pushes slick and warm up inside of him. His jeans only made it to his knees. Eddie chokes on something between a gasp and a moan and maybe even a scream, but certainly not a bad scream. A  _ this-is-way-better-than-going-outside _ scream. 

 

So like, the best scream. His fingers come to grip the arm of the sofa, and his other hand has nothing to do but push back through his own hair while he pants. 

 

**Too much?**

 

_ Don’t bullshit me. You know it’s not too much. _

 

**You said we were no help.**

 

_ Can’t we talk about that after we do this? _

 

**No. Tell us how helpful we are.**

 

_ “Fuck, _ ” Eddie whispers. Seriously? It’s his own fault. And he knows it. And they know it. As a royal whole, all parties present here today are perfectly aware that Eddie Brock did not  _ mean _ it when he said they were no help. Clearly they’re a big help--and with magic alien tentacles up his ass and suctioned around his cock and crawling up his body he shouldn’t have to admit it out loud. 

 

But he does and everyone present here today also knows  _ that _ . “You’re  _ incredible _ ," he says. Best to just say it and lose the little game than to miss out on being properly fucked anyway. "Smarter than me, hotter than me, hell," He forgets the rest of the sentence. There's a pleasant thrusting between his legs and he groans. Yeah. Worth it to lose the game.  

 

There’s a swirl of warmth within him. Not from the sex--that’s great, that’s awesome, he’s going to cum way too fast and maybe they can work in a round two later--but from his beautiful, bratty other. It’s more than just a word or a passing thought. It’s being a part of each other, being heavily, deeply bonded. It’s understanding, knowing, that above all else they have this love. 

 

No one else can have this, after all. This is theirs alone. This is their love, so strong that they can feel it as one. This is their body, their lives mingled together. This is their happiness. 

 

**Already told you, Eddie. Beautiful.**

 

“Hah, yeah,” Eddie moans through that, but he can’t disagree. They did already talk about this. They’re perfect together. (It doesn’t mean that they couldn’t stand to do some sit-ups now and then.) His head swirls. Venom is messing with it. He can tell, he can feel them inside and out pushing pleasure and euphoria and setting his nerves on fire in the best way. He happily surrenders that over to them, because all he can focus on is that he’s going to cum  _ right now _ . 

 

It's kind of like when you're outside on the 4th of July when the fireworks are blasting in the sky. There's a certain anticipation. The air around you is smoky and buzzing with fire and bugs. You light the fuse and you don’t know if you should run from it or stay close to make sure it goes off without a hitch. 

 

Eddie’s reaction to orgasm is always to run from it. He wants it, of course, but when it gets close--especially when it’s because his other is heavy against his prostate--he always gets tense. He arches his back and his hips and he tries to  _ get away _ because maybe it’s just too much. Maybe he doesn’t deserve it, maybe he can’t handle it. So far he’s never escaped it, and he hopes he never does. He’s teetering right there on the edge with every muscle drawn tight and his head tipped back because he can’t bear to hold it up… and then a flash of pain causes him to yelp. Or maybe scream. It’s more a yelp than a scream but it’s  _ good _ . His eyes snap open and he cums  _ hard _ . It's almost like one by one, one muscle at a time, his body relaxes and he begins to unwind. He sucks in a breath like he's never done that before in his life, and finally, he turns his head to look at his shoulder. There's a perfect circle of red lines, a ring of Venom's teeth that makes his gaze lazily turn to where his other has formed their head and face. 

 

**“You wanted it.”**

 

“I don’t remember saying that,” Eddie hums, but--yeah--it was good. He closes his eyes again but tilts his head until it lands against Venom’s. Their teeth may be scary to anyone else, but Eddie doesn’t mind. It’s kind of like cute dogs that have teeth that stick out, right? “You gonna stop the bleeding?” 

 

But there he is leaning against their mouth, so Venom doesn’t open it to speak. They just say to him,  **We will always take care of us.**

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie mumbles. “Don’t heal it up all the way, yeah? Might make for a cool scar.” A good scar that he can tell people he doesn’t care about is something outrageous like a shark bite... and people who know him will probably guess what it is. “Still wanna go outside, darling?” 

 

**You said it’s too cold.**

 

“Yeah, I did, huh? But you can drive. Then I’ll be warm. If there’s nothing good to eat we can just look at the pretty ice.”

 

There’s a buzz of excitement within him that he knows belongs to his love, not to himself. It’s fine. It’s sweet. He’s glad he can make them happy with the simplest of offers. He feels them move away and so, reluctantly, Eddie holds up his head on his own again. He lets his eyes settle on the pearly white of theirs. There’s an affectionate, tender gaze…. And then Eddie’s face twists up in a laugh. “Alright! Alright. Let me put my clothes back on.” 

 

**“You did a bad job of taking them off.”**

 

“Maybe I just wanted to be able to tug them back on like this?” Eddie shifts to move and all of Venom’s  _ appendages _ retract back into itself. It’s… an interesting feeling. Being overly full and warm then just suddenly being empty and cold… but he stands up and tucks himself back into his jeans like it doesn’t bother him. 

 

Venom retracts entirely into Eddie but he knows once they get outside they’ll take over. For now, they're just a calming presence in his mind and settled in his chest. Warm. Eddie pulls on his gloves and steps into his sneakers and he's just reaching for the doorknob when he hesitates to lay his hand over his chest. He can't  _ feel _ them there, but that’s where they are. He’s certain. “Love you, babe.” 

 

**Love you too, Eddie,** The symbiote says from inside his chest, inside his mind.  **Hurry. We want to see the ‘pretty ice.’**

 

Eddie turns the knob and locks the door behind them. It is  _ way _ too cold outside for this… but hey--how does that old song go?  _ I’ve got my love to keep me warm _ .


End file.
